


dust and ashes

by coldairballoons



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lemony Snicket's POV, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldairballoons/pseuds/coldairballoons
Summary: To Beatrice -Alone, in my hotel room, I think of you.I would hope you do the same,But your thoughts are ash now.Just like you.(dust and ashes // natasha, pierre and the great comet of 1812)
Relationships: Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket
Kudos: 3





	dust and ashes

**Author's Note:**

> So I never write in first person, but... it's Lemony. I have to.

I find nights to be the hardest.

Oftentimes, I will find myself tossing and turning in my bed, duvet pulled haphazardly over myself, trying fruitlessly to shut my eyes and drift off to sleep. The night air is cold here, it always is, summer or winter, but my bed is warm, and I know that deep down, it should be comforting. 

But how can I sleep when you’re gone?

Anything I do, any thought I have, any movement I try to make to get ready for bed--making a cup of that black tea you loved, or putting on socks like we jokingly did that one winter night, and now made a habit of, or even laying with my arms wrapped around a particularly firm pair of pillows. (Not adequate substitutes for human warmth, though, the shape is more similar.)

I lay here, in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, which has sixty three stripes running across it from side to side, (I counted them over and over, aimlessly.), and think about you. I roll over, looking at the wall, which has twelve burn marks on it (from a cigarette--burns are round in shape), and think about you.

At the base of the wall, there’s a pile of ashes--an ashtray was probably knocked over, based on the way the ashes seem almost tossed against the wall, leaving a gray smudge against it. And I think of you again.

That’s all you are, now.

Ashes.


End file.
